SCP Containment Breach-Revisiting
by Sonny Reez
Summary: When he died, he believed that he can finally rest in peace after the chaos in there. Being brought back to life and in the past definitely wasn't part of the deal. With the knowledge of the future breakout, he can change the place for the better. Or can he? New SCPs shall be introduced and all hell will break loose. (Chapter 2 is now updated)
1. The Beginning

**So after reading this story, there were some consistencies and some other stuff I've never bothered looking over. **

**Also, for a first story as a new fan fiction writer, I didn't do that bad, but I didn't do so well, in my opinion.**

**So, as of right now, I rewriting all of the stories that I have made as of recently, with some content removed and replaced, for all readers to enjoy.**

**That means the first part of this little chapter here.**

**Excuse me for this mess of many words here.**

"Talking"

'_Thinking' _or _emphasis_

**"Intercom/Any SCP"**

**"Thoughts from an SCP"**

* * *

_Unknown Location_

_? ?, ?, ?:? ?M_

?

_?_

*_Huff_* *_Huff_*

He pants as he slows to a stop in his tracks, sweat covering his body as he tries to catch his breath, his lungs slowly starting to give out on him. The clothes he's wearing currently isn't exactly athletic for the most part, consisting of loosely hung jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and red Converse All-Stars with a little black line going through the middle. Because of this, his whole entire body is covered in numerous smells, the predominant one being the stench of his sweat.

He starts wincing in pain as the blisters in his feet starts to rub against the interior of his worn-out shoes. On all aspects, this man has been through quite a hell storm, running away from guards and dodging elusive experiments that want to kill him. Of course, this all happened because someone didn't watch a particular shit-faced creature from killing all of the employees in the testing area he was in. Now he's in this mess, hoping that all of this is just a dream.

He slowly limps his way through the hallways into the entrance of a strange room, labeled 'Gate A'. Grasping the key card tightly with his left hand (his right arm was burned off by corrosive material during a particularly painful experiment), he stumbles his way inside the room to find an elevator inside.

Slowly but surely, he makes his way over to the elevator, the tell-tale signs of the black, corrosive man started to reappear.

The melting sounds of the ground.

The figure itself rising from said ground.

The eerie cackles of the figure coming from the ground.

He takes his time shuffling over to where the mentally and physically damaged man stands, hoping to get his prey at last, all of this taking place as the elevator soon makes it to its destination.

Limp walking inside, the man slams his hand on the button going up.

Up and out.

The ding of the elevator rings out as the man slowly peeks out from the doors only to see a peculiar sight: the black man rising out of the ground right beside him and walking past him and into the huge entrance leading to the outside world.

**"SCP-106 has broken out of the facility at Gate A!" **The intercom crackles to life as troops start to gather at the entrance to stop the creature.

**"Fire the H.I.D. Turret immediately! Do NOT let it across the bridge!" **The urgency of his voice becomes apparent as the now identified SCP-106 now takes long strides across the bridge, leaving a trail of corrosive material with every step taken, in desperation to escape from this wretched place.

All the while, the aforementioned worn-out man uses this opportunity to survey the place around him for an escape route.

The big entrance is out of the question as the whole area is littered with guards. That and the fact that the whole ground is covered in the material.

Looking at the sides of the entrance, he manages to find a doorway leading to the underside of the bridge that the SCP used earlier in his escape attempt that spirals down to the road below it.

It doesn't take long for the guards to see the struggling man as one of them spots him.

"Class-D has been spotted!" he shouts as he points his gun toward the man. Soon after, all of the guards start to point their guns at the fallen man, the man in question still trying to limp towards the tunnel and, hopefully, towards freedom.

"Halt!" A group of specially equipped personnel rushed over to where he is going with the intent of stopping him.

He goes on defiantly.

He feels a burning pain through the lower part of his leg as the man realizes that they are beginning to fire shots at him, but it is too late. Pain starts to erupt everywhere: the left arm, the burnt part of his right arm, part of the right ear, and the calf was burning even more.

Soon he starts to stumble as his vision blurs from the combination of both the pain, the blood loss, and fatigue.

It's surely a sight to see.

The SEP takes a step back to see the man slowly trudge towards them, misunderstanding the situation. One would too: a haggard man, with a burned off arm with bullet wounds scattered throughout his body and eyes blood-shot does make one step back.

"Fire!" one of them shouts out as all of them raise their guns again.

The last thing he catches a glimpse of is the barrels of the guns pointed at him before the darkness consumes him.

* * *

_Afterlife?_

_? ?, ?,?:? ?M_

_?  
_

_?_

My eyes slowly fluttered open, hoping to see anything pleasant after that whole incident, but only see a dark environment, completely devoid of anything light.

Coldness. That's the only sensation my body felt as it floated freely in the seemingly endless abyss. Slowly getting used to the way everything worked out, I flipped myself into an upright position and tried to somehow swim around a bit to check out the surroundings a bit, but to no avail. My right arm was still in pretty bad shape from my last scuffle, and my calf hurt just moving is.

***BANG!***

Suddenly, from out of the blue (or darkness, I don't really care.) , a big explosion came out of nowhere. With no directional input, I was unable to swim forward as I felt the explosion coming closer and closer, with each explosion sending tremors all over my body.

***FLASH!***

Soon, with a bright flash of light, the explosion engulfed my battered body as I felt myself falling backwards, with no control of myself.

In a panic, I flailed my arms around, hoping that I can move away from this chaos that ensued, with no results.

All of a sudden, the black room I was in changed into the entrance I was at earlier before I was shot down. I saw myself at gunpoint from one of the operatives over there, before I was shot to death.

Soon enough, the whole event seems to be reversing, with all the twitchy finger operative backing away and myself just backing out from where I came from.

Then, everything became a blur. Soon, I found myself moon walking through the facility with somehow everything reversing. From the black corrosive goop covering the floor disappearing, to the recovery team coming back from their neck snapped deaths, it has come to me that everything is in _reverse._

_Reverse,_ out of all things.

Soon, I found myself at the testing area I was in before it started to throw me back even more, with the guards escorting me back to my room and out of my room again with another group of people standing in the halls.

A man that I have never seen before was standing at the hallways of where we were. Before I could even catch a glimpse of him, he vanishes, leaving no indication that he was ever there

I then find myself back in the orientation area where all of us, the convicts and I, were debriefed. We took our seats and my vision blurs and the world around me is again surrounded in darkness.

* * *

_Unknown Location_

_October 16, 2013, 7:30 AM_

_SCP Foundation-Orientation Room_

A whole slew of hard borne criminals shuffles into the small, cramped room that is a meeting hall, where they'll soon have their first and last orientation with their superior officers.

One by one, with expressions of despair and terror, devoid of anything pleasant, they all take their spots in their seats, wondering whenever this meeting was going to end.

Time has gone by as, soon after, complaints start to rise from the sea of orange-clad convicts.

Their expressions change from scared to just looks of pure confusion.

Two hours has passed, restlessness starts to sink into the group.

"WHO THE HELL"S RUNNING THIS PLACE?!" one of them cries out, patience running extremely low.

Soon after, all hell breaks loose as the quiet murmurs of a gentle wave soon turned into a tsunami, their voices so loud that it somehow manages to penetrate sound absorbing barriers into the other room which, unfortunately, is the bathroom. One unlucky sap happens to be taking a big crap of sorts, reading what seems to be a newspaper when the noise comes in. Scares the shit out of him, mind you.

One after another, complaint after complaint comes pouring out of almost every convict's mouth, with the exception of a few people, mainly the ones in the back.

One person in particular seems completely oblivious to what's happening around him, head slouched as he seems to be asleep. Then again, he is asleep, noting from the fact that among all the noise, one of the more prominent ones is the snores coming from this one.

With bushy hair that provides a bit of shade for his eyes, he's a 5'9 teen with a lean build at around 120 lbs. One particularly noticeable feature he holds is that he has strangely colored eyes, much different from other normal eye colors. Both of his eyes have a striking golden hue that somehow glows in the dark, giving the impression that he's possessed by someone, perhaps by some supernatural entity at first glance.

Even with the look, he doesn't stand out among the crowd too much. More or less, he's just a small fish inside the orange that is now an ocean.

This is the story about him, D-Class 9341. A young boy roped into the unknown of this facility.

Sleeping soundly.

Peeking from one of the doors that leads to the podium, a man, no less than thirty years old, looks on at the carnage that has been released. Wearing the standard scientist shirt, with the emblem of the logo stitched to the left breast, he's an unremarkable, Caucasian man with no facial hair and a buzz cut. The only thing that sets him apart from the other scientist who happen to be wearing the same thing is that he's wearing a red polka dot tie.

'It'd going to be one of those days, isn't it?' He thought. With hesitation in his movements, he slowly opened the door (and by open slowly, I mean really fast. These doors are button pressed and they make a lot of noise, and I mean a LOT of noise).

***WWWWHHHHRRRR***

Even with the sound of the door, the chaos doesn't stop there. It seems to fuel the craziness even more. As he steps on the podium, he tries to compose himself, slowly breathing in and out deeply.

_'Hands shaking, eye vision fading, heart pounding fiercely, and feet tapping. There's no doubt about it. I'm nervous.'_

He coughed into his right hand, hoping that the sound will bring all the attention to him, to no avail. Apparently, the sound is too loud for his cough to be heard.

He then spoke up.

* * *

_First POV- D-9341_

"Excuse me, please." Under any circumstances, I would outright ignore anyone that tries to disturb my sleep, but, for some reason, the crashing of shouting from the sea or orange sounded way too familiar, and the room smells like a prison bath.

_'A prison bath?'_ I think as I slowly open my eyes to the white walls around me.

"If you would all just turn your attention," the voice tries again, but with very little success. "Okay, settle down, I need you to..."

Again, he's interrupted by the roaring sound of the oranges.

"If I could have your-"

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" screams one of the convicts.

"WHERE'S MY ATTORNEY, THE FORM NEVER SAID ANY OF THIS SHIT!" another one exclaims.

"HAH, YOU ACTUALLY READ THE SMALL PRINT?!" one of them questionably screams.

Soon, many voices begin to overlap one another and as I start to wake up, my vision and mind being very groggy, I have a very thick feeling of Deja vu. This is giving me a headache.

"Quiet!" The researcher tries to gain attention, but unlike a group of toddlers, these criminals are one not to back down from authority.

"Will you all please…I said SHUT THE FUCK UP!" My body jolts awake once those words are said aloud. both my legs and one of my arms start to spasm all around the place, with one of my legs hitting the chair of a rather buff convict in front of me.

Soon enough, he starts to get up from his seat and starts to turn around to face me. It's very unsettling, but not to the point where he's actually terrifying. Yes, he has a buff body, but unlike that, his face is a completely different story.

He has a baby face. With pudgy cheeks, eyes as big as half of his face, and a small mouth. He doesn't have that much hair, unlike the rest of his body which happens to rival that of big foot.

"You got a problem?" his voice booms out, now making me cringe at the fact that this face spoke to me with a voice that deep. It's like hearing an engine sound coming from a dog's mouth. It doesn't fit at all.

"N-n-no, there's nothing wrong here," I manage to fake stutter, given the strange circumstances as he starts to lean forward menacingly, his baby face getting closer to my more mature one. Reminder: creepy, not scary.

"Now listen here-" he starts to say before I unintentionally tune him out, mostly of the cliches that he started to spew out of his mouth. Going to kill me in my sleep, strangle me in my sleep, going to carve out my face for him to we- wait. What?!

"Alright, now that I have your attention, we may begin. I am Junior Assistant Researcher Doc…..SILENCE!" he bellows, speaking to the baby face blaster over here, his attention being ripped away from being reprimanded from the man in the podium.

"You, over there!" The assistant scientist shouts out, pointing to Baby Face here.

"**Sit**!" he orders, as if training a dog.

Soon everyone starts to laugh at the man standing in front of me as his expression transitions from angry and pissed off, to embarrassed and red-faced from all of the attention.

Sitting down, he starts to stare angrily at me, hoping to entice a reaction, with little result. Mainly from the fact that it's hard not to laugh as an image of a baby's head is photo-shopped onto the body of a man. Maybe he's the product of photo-shopping? _That _explains why he's here.

"Okay, like I was saying, I will be leading your orientation today." Well, that's a big surprise. From what he's about to say, he's basically a junior of a junior of a researching doctor. How very confusing. You know what? I'll just call him JARD. Much easier on my tongue.

"Now, you may all be wondering where you are. That's classified. You may be wondering who we are. That's also classified. However, I can tell you that we are a form of a research facility," the JARD bluntly points out.

'_Surprise, surprise,_' I think sarcastically as I hear the murmuring of the convicts in front of me.

"As you may know," the researcher continues, "one of our agents approached each and every one of you and gave you and offer. You can either wait out your term on death row..."

So basically, he's saying that we'll decide if we can rot in prison…..okay.

"...or you could volunteer to participate in our testing facilities for the span of one month."

When people heard of this news before, a riot soon formed to sign up for this stuff. I mean, one whole month and all your crimes will be wiped out, now THAT'S a deal. That's why there are so many people inside this orientation room.

"Obviously, you agreed to cooperate."the researcher says. "This entails-" He is abruptly cut off by someone in the crowd, to his dismay.

"Wait, I never agreed to anything! What's this bullshit?!" the man yells out. The JARD sighs, exasperated, putting a tired hand up to his forehead for support in an effort to (poorly) hide his irritation.

"What? What do you mean you didn't agree? We told you that if you participate, you're free to go at the end of the month. Who wouldn't take up a deal like…" but his words soon become unheard as that man starts to panic and, as a result, everyone in the front starts to lose it. Now that I think about it, they organized us by crimes that we did, from the least dangerous to the most fatal. So basically, I was taking it easy at the back.

"Guard, excuse me," The JARD says. Sounds like he's had enough. "Can you take him to, yeah, the third door on the left?"

As the guard brings the man out, I get a good look at his face just for a little bit. He's a lanky fellow with big pleading eyes and a messy goatee. As the lanky man is escorted out, the JARD looks ready to lose it. Massaging his temples, he thanks the guard quietly.

"Like I said, if you can make it through the test procedures, we…" As he is explaining the procedures, a screamed penetrates the air, ringing through everyone's ears. Foul play, I suspect.

"What was that?" one of the guys in the middle say. "Was that screaming?" The whole entire room murmurs at the possibility before we are silenced by the JARD who disproves it.

"No, I didn't hear any screaming." he says calmly, almost eerily.

"If you can make it through the testing procedures, we'll let you go at the end of the month. You know, provided you cooperate fully," the researcher explains. "I mean, yeah, this stuff is dange-"

Soon afterwards, he starts to trail off on how dangerous this place can be, from a nuclear weapon that can destroy the majority of Earth, to a being that may possibly be a glitch in the universe. Stuff that I already know.

_'Ugh, why do I have to go that far in time?'_ I rub my temples as the man keeps droning on. I know that I have a chance to try and survive this place, but can whoever they are place me in a time where I'm not bored? God, I would rather listen to an adult from Charlie Brown. At least it's something hilarious to listen to.

"-and soon enough you go home as a free man, and back to your lovely wife/husband and kids. Well," he then points out to a man with a big scar running down his eyes, his shirt not buttoned and his beard running freely, "except for you. Says here that you killed your wife and kids. Huh, must be hard to explain to your in-laws, huh?" The man in question just shrugs off as the JARD goes back to his speech.

"At the end of the orientation," the researcher continues, "you will be directed down the hall where you will get your numerical designation tattooed on your wrist and your chest. This will be mostly painless and once you-"

"Wait, why the chest? Is the chest really that important?" one of the people in the front asks.

"Hmm? Why the chest? Well in the event of an explosion, it's most likely that it'll be the largest intact chunk of meat left," the researcher darkly jokes.

Everyone in the room deadpans as the researcher is sweating bullets.

"HAHAHAHAHA! I'm joking! Of course I'm joking!" He starts to laugh as the whole room remains silent, still absorbing in the information that the JARD give them. Hell, even the guards are looking at him with that _'What the fuck did you just say, man?'_

"Yes I'm sure! That is very, very unlikely to happen. We haven't had an explosion for the past two months!" He sweatdropped as he is trying to reassure them.

"Hah, look at him!" he laughs as he points to one of the very front people, trying to reflect the embarrassing attention onto someone else.

"He thought I was serious! Heh heh, but, ah, no. You will be getting your designation tattooed on your hand. I was not joking about the tattoos. Well, if you want, you can get it removed at the end of the month." The room murmurs as the researcher finished his musings.

One of the men somewhere in the middle asks, "So do we have to pay for the removal?"

"Excuse me, but is it p-painful?" Another man at the end of the room adds his two cents.

"No, no charge at all and it's a pretty painless procedure actually," he says. "Okay, once you get your new tattoo, you will be escorted to D-Block Alpha-6. This will be your new dormitory: you will eat, sleep, and bathe there."

"So basically, it's just like prison, right?" a woman near the back asks.

"No, you were spoiled in prison, you will not be getting your own cell," he says. "All of you will be bunking together with at least one other person here. I don't even have my own office, and you want your own cell? Just because you're a girl doesn't mean you're off the hook. Just suck it up and go with it." The JARD replies back. The woman two seats in front of me seems pretty pissed.

"_Anyways,_" he emphasizes, "once you'll get accommodated inside your cell, this is where you'll be doing your own thing. One of our staff will call you people at least twice a day so you will help us with the testing. No screw ups for at least a month and you'll be out in no time, 'mkay?"

Everyone in the room nods, a little murmur starting to rise, turning into questions.

After the JARD finishes up all of the explanations, he then moves on to the next segment: answering any inquiries.

"Okay, that pretty much wraps it up. Any questions?" the researcher asks. At that point, several hands shoot up into the air. Damn, it's like reliving primary school.

"Alright, you, with the-good LORD, man!" he jumps/stumbles back, cringing as he looks at a man in the back. The particular man apparently, in his life, looks like he took a shotgun to the face and survived. Whatever remains of his face is very minimal at best, but at least he has a mouth and eyes to use.

"Did you take a round of buckshot to the face?" he asks, trying not to grimace but ultimately failing.

"My question?" the man says in a very low baritone voice.

"Yes, your question," the researcher repeats, clearing his throat.

"Do we have any medical insurance or health care here? In any case, will you help us if we are injured?" the two face impersonator asks, ironically ignoring his current state.

"Sure, we have a fantastic team of doctors here. Best in the world. Don't worry about your medical insurance here, it won't matter anyways." He assured, raising his hands to cover up his face from view. Soon after, the buckshot man sat down and the researcher sighed in relief, a little TOO loudly, mind you.

"Next. Uh, you. Second to the back." He points at a scrawny man, with a small built and a small face.

Standing up, I can clearly see that this man has anxiety issues, with the fact that his body starts to shake uncontrollably. This man seems afraid. Very.

"Um, is it possible to g-go back where we came from? I-I-I mean, can we just go back to p-p-p-prison or something?" he stutters, mortified.

"No, it's too late to choose death row over here. I don't know why you would want to in the first place." The researcher questions his reason on why he came here. Why did he come here?

"I-I-I never m-made this decision in the f-f-first place," he tries to argue back.

"Well, you got a giant swastika carved into your face, so I don't think you're the best at making decisions." A big "OHHHHHH" can be heard from the wave of orange as the swastika man sat down, his head falling into his hands, embarrassed. He then starts to hug himself as his body begins to shiver again. Sad day for him, I guess.

"Okay, one more question… ah… yes, you, the one missing the ear." He then gestures towards a one eared man, with a built as big as the doors at a school entrance way, a mullet that reaches down to his back, and tattoos scattered onto every surface of his body.

"You know who else suck at decisions?" the guy with the missing ear says. "Your MOM!"

"Um, that's not really a question," the researcher tries to say.

"With all the stuff that she can put in her mouth, it's no wonder that you're the one with the big mouth!" the huge guy retorts.

"Dammit, my mother was a saint!" the researcher shouts, seething with anger. "If you say one more word-"

"You know who else doesn't stop talking? My-" the guy tries to finish before being abruptly cut off.

"Guard, please, if you could…" the researcher pleads, his hands raised in resignation.

The guard raises the gun as the missing eared muscle man rants on about the researcher's mother.

***BANG***

The blast of the gun sends the man flying forward into the convict behind him. A bullet wound through the forehead went through clean to the other side. The convict dodges out the way as the one eared man falls down to the ground. He was dead before he even landed. As everyone is panicking, the researcher tries to calm down everyone.

"Want me to clean up?" the guard volunteers, stepping forward.

"No, it's fine. I'll send the janitor down later," the researcher says.

As the researcher turned back to the orange group, he reassures them, "See? Just stay in line and cooperate. One month, and you're gone. Never have to see this place again. Really, it's that simple."

A quick nod from the group of orange comes in as an answer.

The man over heading the procedures then got word of another batch of D-Class.

"Attention, all junior assistant personnel. The next group of D-Class will be coming in shortly. Please escort the debriefed D-Class to their designated areas," the head of security announces.

"Alright, guards, if you could escort them out, please?" The researcher asks as he rubs his temples.

It's gonna be one of those days.

"Alpha-6, sir?" one of the guards asks.

"That's right, Alpha-6."

"Uh, sir?" another one of the guards asks, coming closer to help the distressed man.

"No, I don't care what he said. My mother was a saint," the researcher mumbles, completely being out of it.

As I am being guided out of there, I hear the last few words from the researcher, "Goddammit, where's the FUCKING JANITOR?!" before the door slams shut completely.

* * *

**And there you go, this is my rewritten version of the first chapter.**

**Like it, hate it? Two choices that will determine the fate of this fanfic.**

**If you haven't noticed before, the very introduction of this story has changed, for better or worse. Before the change, I find it kind of lacking for the punch it needs.**

**This story may bop to a M rated story if there are more things on my mind, but not yet it seems.**

**Still, it's my first story.**

**Constructive reviews are welcome and flames , well, are a strange anomaly to me so I don't know how to respond to that.**

**By the way, what's your favorite color? I know that this came out of left field, but I just want to know.**

**Because I'm not suppose to post links here, I'm going to replace all periods with the word 'dot'. Just fix this link and you'll get to the strawpoll of the colors of the rainbow. Also removes the brackets as well. For reference, this is a bracket: '()'.**

**(straw)(poll)dot(me)/(4216983)**

**In any case, Read and review. I'll see you later.**

**Rewritten since April 6, 2015, 7:42**


	2. Into the Cells and to the mind

**Well then, all my work for both high school and college is definitely holding me back from finishing up this piece of work, considering the fact that I just recently graduated from high school and started up college.**

**So busy with, business, I neglected this work for about half a year.  
**

**That is sad, though h****opefully you're enjoying these rewrites of all of my chapters or, in my case, the first one and this one.**

**But hey, graduation is now out of the way for me so there's more work for this story.**

**Just a little nitpick here and there, I noticed that there's ****an orientation over there, yet they also give a little sheet basically summarizing everything in said orientation.  
**

**Also, your identification number is on the summarized page but you already have your number tattooed out your body somewhere.**

**Then again, it's possible that they overlooked this piece of information.**

**Anyways, enjoy the fanfic.**

**DISCLAIMER: ****I do not own any rights to the SCP Foundation nor do I have any endorsements with any progress with the game itself. One things for sure, if I made the game, I'd probably try and bring it into Steam and hope that it'll get Greenlit. Profits all over this Bitch if that's the case.**

"Talking"

'_Thinking' _or _emphasis_

**"Intercom/Any SCP"**

**"Thoughts from an SCP"**

* * *

_Unknown Location  
_

_October 17, 2013, 8:00 AM_

_Entrance Zone- Hallway_

One by one, they marched down the hallway leading towards the barracks where all of them be living here for a month, working towards one goal: their freedom.

Our main protagonist of this story started to lag in the back, mostly on the many things that is shown around the facility here. Squinting his dulled, yellow eyes, he could see the many rooms full of equipment, guards practicing their shooting accuracy, and offices filled to the brim with scientists from all over the world.

Don't forget the ancient motivational posters strewn around as well.

Considering the fact that this young lad traveled back in time, it is a strange phenomenon that he is still marvel at the little things that he somehow missed during the first time around.

Very much enamored by the many things that this place holds, his little brief distraction almost made him forget that he was in a prison line and not a field trip and, to no surprise, one of the guards pointing his gun at him being a big reminder.

"Move it, kid! We ain't got all day!" The guard ordered as he shoved him with his gun, trying to show his superiority to the others. Unfortunately, for him, everyone is in front of him with no one to look at him. All the effort to impress the superiors up front was a waste.

_'Sometimes, I wonder why I took this job.'_ He thought bitterly as he again butts him with his gun. _'Don't really get much respect around here in this position. Hopefully, there's a promotion after these group of bastards are done for.'_

While the guard just stood there, contemplating about his life story, meanwhile, he started to follow the group into a walkway that happens to overlap with another room, this particular one being more active than any of the other offices before.

_'Wait a second,"_ he thought as he passed by as he gazed across the room '_This can't be right.'_

His curiosity does a little bit attention amongst the back people of the group and some of them stopped with the young lad. These scientists are rather different from the usual scientist. Rather than the usual white, short-sleeved shirt with white pants, these people are wearing lab coats and goggles as thick as a can. It seems that there's something big coming here, if all the little ruckus is there to prove.

Halfway through the walkway, he stopped with the group and, by fate, has the fortunate luck of eavesdropping on one of the many conversations with two of the scientists there. It seems that there's a break-in some time ago that shook the majority of the faculty members here, something that, due to his previous endeavors through here, already know of long time ago.

"Have you checked up on Dr. L as of lately?" one of the scientists asked.

"As of right now, no." The other scientist admitted. "I haven't even seen him leave his room."

"What's happening today?" Scientist one wondered, worried for his colleague.

"Well," Scientist two tried to explain. "Even since the last containment breach with SCP-106, things have been kind of tense around here, well with him somewhat being paranoid around many of the SCP-objects here."

"I wouldn't blame them, really." The first scientist nodded understandably. "We're housing one of the most dangerous creatures known to mankind."

While eavesdropping on the scientists below, the guard escorting the convicts finally snapped out of his pondering and, to some unfortunate event, saw our young hero listening to something he shouldn't be listening to. Enraged, he comes up to me and butts him again with his gun, this time to the head. Well, it's a good thing that he wasn't that strong to begin with, for that all of his barking gave him no bite, basically equivalent to a plastic spoon.

"I am not in the mood for this shit. I have no problem putting a bullet in your head if you don't start cooperating." the guard threatened. "Now, return back in line with the others."

_'He's starting to lose his cool, it seems.' _Our hero thought as he returned back in line smirking slightly, looking back at the guard that apparently reprimanded him. Underneath his visors, one can see a little red covering his cheeks. Must be embarrassed.

The convicts were then escorted through the huge building until the walls of the place change. Instead of the usual pristine white that adorn the whole facility, this part is dusty colored. Either that or it's actually dust and they never bother cleaning this place up. Stepping through yet another door, they arrived at a relatively narrow place. Along the walls are doors closely placed together, probably about 10 to 15 feet away from each other. These are the dorms for the convicts and shall be a bane to all people living here.

One of the guards motioned for everyone to stop as an officer, possibly a major or something being dressed as a scientist wearing black, comes up this time to call out roll.

"Okay, guys. I'm going to call out roll over here. Once your name is heard, step up to the front and you'll be given a designation code and sent to a nearby room to get your tattoo. After receiving your tattoo containing you code, you'll be sent to your rooms where you'll be waiting for further instructions or orders. Any questions?" The guard took a huge breather once he finished his mini speech. Guessing he didn't get enough exercise.

The line of convicts just stood there.

"I take that as a yes, then." The officer affirmed and took out a check board.

"Eric Husley!" He called out.

A man with pale skin steps forward, his brown hair spiked up too much for my liking.

"You designation code is D-7425. Please step into the tattoo room for imprinting." The guard lazily commanded.

The guy nodded as he was led through another door into the tattoo room on the other end of the hallway.

"Cassi Anus Barros! Errm," The officer scratched his head at the absurd name. "Um, Cassy on us Barros!" The officer next called out, eliciting a little giggle from some of the more immature ones in the crowd.

The man called out stepped forward with his stature being very small, mostly 4'11 or 5 feet tall.

"It's Cassianus Barros." He face palmed as the the unfortunate name as he then walked toward the guards, with the back giggling at him.

This continued for a least another five minutes with every name being as random as last time, with our hero being dulled out just by waiting.

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder and the little lapse of relief he was abruptly take away from him by the guard nearby, who unfortunately is the gun-butting guard.

"Dammit, can't you at least be a little respectful to your fuckin' superiors?!" This guard shouted to him, his screaming made spit splatter all over the visors.

"Private," The leader of the guards started to say, eerily calm all the way. "Try not speaking out of line next time. Sooner or later, you'll be demoted to cleaning duty."

*Sigh* The guard annoyingly sighed as he straightened himself up and took off his visors, which then shows his heavily scarred face and returned to his position.

"Now before I was **fuckin'** interrupted, quite abruptly if I might add," The, now dubbed, kicked around guard shrink in his position. "You, Nick Scrivener, come with me. We have something to discuss."

The D-Class, now identified as Nick, raised an eyebrow in question, which is understandable mostly from the fact that the last time he was here, there wasn't any meeting with a high superior.

"Yes sir." He nodded as the officer leading also nodded in confirmation.

"Good. Corporal Richards?" The officer told the man right next to him.

"Um," The guard looked around as his temporary daze unknowingly is lead him to his ultimate demise under his superior. "Yes sir?" He asked questioning.

"You're taking role for the remainder of the inmates here. If there's no complaints and I'm in a good mood," He let the many possibilities of awards/punishments linger into the air. "Then, possibly, you're going to get a promotion."

Immediately, there's an outcry of complaints from all the guards present, especially the guard that was scolded a few minutes earlier.

"WHAT?!" That guard cried out in shock, while everyone turned to look at him.

'Goddamit, why does this happen?' the Officer muttered to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow; the stuffy air combined with the stress from everyone here is giving him an enormous headache.

"I said 'if'. 'If' as in probably it's going to happen or maybe not." The officer rubbed his eye in stress as he placed a hand on the now questioned inmate.

"Come with me kid, we have much to discuss, specifically the crime you 'committed." He air quoted at this point, knowing that something big has happened back 'home'.

Pushing their way through the crowd of inmates, they made there way to the door that leads to more of the facility. Unfortunately for both people, the reactions from the rest of the inmates and the guards are about as to be expected.

"Where's the kid going to?" One asked, thinking to himself.

"Eh, who cares?" Another nonchalantly answered back. "I'm more interested on the promotion Richards is getting."

"Man, that's sum' BULLLLSHIT. Why does that guard get all the luck. He doesn't even do that much around here." Guard one complained to his guard buddy.

Rafe looked around in confusion as both guards and inmates stared at the two leaving the group while the lucky guard stood still, dazed at the proposition that he's moving up the ladder of authority.

Then all hell broke loose.

"BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH!" Shouted some random guy.

"THE FUCK?! Why are you just shouting blah?!" One person questionably shouted, mostly from the absurdity of the last line.

"Eh, I figured I have a dig at this." Doing a full 180 Degree turn, he replied back with a nonchalant tone as the chaos still rings on inside the cramped hallway.

Shaking his head in confusion, the lucky guard then picked up the clipboard containing all the names decides to skim through the majority for their crime, all while trying to defuse the situation at hand.

_'I just wanted some sleep.'_ He thought to himself as he started where the officer left off.

* * *

_Unknown Location_

_October 17, 2013 8:14 AM_

_Entrance Zone- Office Area No. 1_

_Nick POV_

Making our way back into the same hallway again, we passed by numerous office rooms filled to the brim with many people, workers and scientists alike, as the officer and I made it to our destination: another hallway with three rooms separated from the rest of the facility.

Knocking on one of the doors, we waited for a response from anyone behind it.

Nothing.

"Um, just so you know," The officer tried to bring up a conversation. "That whole entire case against you was kind of bullshit to begin with."

"Um, what do you mean?" I asked him as we bide for time.

"Didn't you know what happen?" He questioned me as I shook my head in denial. "Well.."

"If you're looking for Dr. Gears," A scientist passing by told us while "He's not in as of now. We already messaged him about 'your,'" He then looks at me, his eyes glassy in sympathy towards what happened back home I guess. "'current situation' so he should be arriving about..."

The door leading to another hallway behind us opened, interrupting the scientist's conversation with us and revealing a middle-aged man. With his receding hairline and his stern look, one glance at him will give you this vibe that this person is someone you shouldn't mess with.

This is Dr. Gears, the person who founded this whole facility.

"Ah so you're the kid from that particular case. Well," He said as he started to prod and poke at my form. "You don't exactly look like a killer, but I digress. Still, come with me. We have much to discuss."

Placing a hand on my shoulder, he guided me towards his office before giving his word on the officer that escorted me.

"I say that you did a excellent job today, trying and succeeding in controlling the situation with the D-Classes." He commended the officer as the said officer saluted in turn.

"I did my best to control the situation sir." He stated as he stood straight in his position.

"With what's happening here, I say your loyalty with the facility warrants you a little present from us." He rubbed his chin as the eyes of the officer brights up from the proposition given to him.

"R-Really sir?" He asked in anticipation, eager for the information given to him.

"Yes, young one." He confirmed as he pushed me into the room, as I stumbled and fell onto the ground.

Yeah, I'm not very well coordinated.

'Besides,' Dr. Gears whispered into the officer's ear. 'With the way things are going here, we may have to lay off some people, more importantly some other officers. I fear that you are going to be next in this firing brigade.'

The officer's eyes widened from more info given to him as he backed away from Gears.

"Um, y-y-ess sir." He stammered as be backed away. "I understand."

"No hard feelings right?" He said to the retreating officer.

The door slammed shut as he left, with me ear in hand listening to the conversation.

"Now then," Dr. Gears then turns to me as I hastily made my way to a seat parallel to the scientist's desk. "We have a lot to discuss, mainly with what happened back in your former home."

I raised my eyebrows in confusion as he brought that topic up.

"Yeah, the officer was talking about something like that." I said mostly to myself. "Didn't get to hear it before you came in though, so what happened back home?" It's strange really. After that horrendous trial, almost everyone turned their back against me including my own foster family.

At least I'm use to it.

"The prosecutors running the trial were on hot water for somethings serious as of right now." The Doctor started to explain. "The trial was a hoax. Just a sham of what is suppose to be there. Apparently, the trial went off without a hitch. However," He lingered there of a few seconds. "One of the bailiffs ran onto the courtroom after you were escorted to your cell with new information in regards to your 'killing'.

"What is it?" I wonder as I look into the eyes of Dr. Gears himself, the little glimmer that's inside gave away what potential surprise there is, but still...

"They recently found little droplets of blood where the real killer was hiding in. Apparently, the prosecution did a horrible job at handling both the evidence and the actual detectives running the case. Shows what kind of world we're all living in."

"Then?" I question.

"..." Dr. Gears sat there in silence as he look at me with sympathy.

"They caught that fucker red-handed, stabbing another woman with that same butcher knife from your case. I almost forgot to include that they also have NO regards towards their own evidence at all." Dr. Gears growled at the situation, not comprehending the many things the human population has done to one innocent life.

Taking a deep breath, he continued with his explanation.

"What's even more aggravating is that they have the GALL, the GALL!" He shouted at my as he slammed both his fists down in anger as I flinch from the sudden movements. "TO TRY AND RELEASE YOU FROM YOUR CELL! You know this all took place after you were sent the invitation to the facility here, right?"

Then it all hit me.

"So what you're saying," My left eye was starting to twitch as both my hands started to become clammy from the revelation and me clenching both of them at the same time. "It was all a big hoax? I was some prize from the very beginning?! IS THIS ALL A FUCKING GAME?!"

"Unfortunately," Dr. Gears straightened himself as he went back to his seat. "That would be the case."

"WHAT THE FUCK!" I raise my hands in exasperation, not believing the situation that I was in."This didn't happen the last time I was here!?"

"Hmm," Dr. Gears looks at me, wondering what I just said.

"Um," I scratched my head in embarrassment as I desperately try to find a way out of this mess. "Dismiss whatever I just said, kay"

"Sonny," He looks at me with stern eyes piercing through my body. "Tell. Me. Everything. What is happening with you and everything."

"Err," I scratched my head as I started to look around in hopes of finding something that can change the subject. "Uhh...oh look, that's a very beautiful poster you have there." I pointed at a motivational poster that hangs on the wall behind of where I'm sitting.

**"Don't bring the drama unless you're a llama."** It says on the top with the bottom picture depicting two figures: one a male that apparently is singing to the other figure, who happens to be a llama.

*SIGH* Dr. Gears face-palmed himself as he surveyed the situation with both of his eyes and ears. "Seems, like you'll need to explain yourself seeing that you blurted out something earlier.

I sat there, wondering what to do. On one hand, I can finally leave this place, live the rest of my life as a normal person, and have a normal job like any other normal person. But on the other hand, I can see the percussions of my decisions play out in my mind.

There will be a breach.

Many people will die that day.

Dangerous creatures will be released into the world.

I'm the only one that knows of this.

And my decision is final.

With a heavy sigh, I raised my head from my hunched position earlier as the head scientist looks at me, waiting for my answer; he seems to notice something as he sat in his seat, the many years of his life becoming prominent as my apparent incompetence is annoying here.

He seems calm. That's unsettling.

"Fine," I gave in as I straightened myself in my seat as Dr. Gears then clapped his hands and rubbed them; finishing off this unnecessary action, he went onto his desktop and pulls up a document file as he got ready to take notes while I'm talking.

"Here's the story..." I started

_A few moments Later..._

Taking a drink from the nearby water dispenser, I gulped down the pathetically small dosage as the long winded discussion with the near future took a lot of steam out of me; the good doctor needed a lot of information after all.

Looking through all the notes, Dr. Gears started rubbing the bottom side of his chin as he started to send this information to multiple parts of the facility, remembering to leave a few people in the dark due to the discussion earlier.

* * *

_Flashback- One minute ago..._

_"So you decided to search all our offices for information on this whole fiasco?" Dr. Gears asked as he types in a new piece of information, seeing as these will be useful in saving many lives in the future events._

_"Umm," I scratched the back of my head as I looked away for a little bit. "Lets just say that I wanted a way to get out of there so I started scavenging the whole place for supplies."_

_"And what did you find?" Dr. Gears asked again._

_I start pondering in my head if this information is appropriate enough to give to him, mostly because of the terrible backlash at the poor choices at hiring people.  
_

_"What I found was a message." I answered._

_"A message?" He repeated, confusion eminent on his face._

_"It hurts me to say this, but..." I thought this long and thorough. "One of your scientists has deserted this foundation."_

_"Hmm?" He hummed as he stopped typing and looks up at me._

_"One of your agents here also betrayed this facility as well." I added as I stared at him.  
_

_We sat there, __silently as Dr. Gears starts typing again._

_"Is there anything you want to add?" Dr. Gears asked._

_"Wait," I interrupted him as he stopped again and stared at me. "How come you're not angry? Are you surprise about this?" I wondered._

_"We did have our suspicions, seeing as these two joined in without any explanation." He started, stretching his arms from the strenuous use of his arms; typing for a really long time in a hunched position does wonders to the lower part of the back._

_"I figured that they would do something about the facility eventually. We just can't do anything about it without any information on what they're doing."_

_"So, now what?" I asked again as he the stood up to grab a drink from the water dispenser._

_"Now?" He asked as he took a sip from his refreshing drink. "Now we bide our time; he's trying to plan against us?" He sat back down, cup in hand as he starts typing again._

_"We're going to bring the pain against him. One does not simply hamper us without any percussions. All of us are going to catch this parasite and bring him to justice."_

_"And?" I asked._

_"We're going to break him."_

_Flashback Ends_

Taking out a non particular cellphone from his pocket, he dialed a number as he is talking to me

"So now," He starts as he ponders on the next words he should say. "It looks like we're gonna have to prepare the whole facility of this future outbreak. Is there more SCPs being released from their own containment cells?"

"Yes sir, however, I didn't encounter a lot inside the facility mostly from the fact that I was only stalked by that statue and the decrepit old man." I nodded my head along with the information I'm giving to him as this may proven fatal.

"...I see" He went silent for a moment until at last his call pushes through.

"Hello?" He asks as he paces around his office, waiting for a response "Yes, this is Dr. Gears." He then went silent as he stops behind me, the conversation becoming less coherent to my ears. Either that or I don't exactly understand what he's talking about.

"...preparations are complete?" He asks in shock, hand over his mouth with his mouth agape at the surprisingly fast action that has been given throughout the facility.

* * *

_Unknown Location_

_October 17, 2013 8:45 AM_

_Entrance Zone- Tattoo Room_

Walking through another set of insignificant hallways, we finally made it to another room that happens to also be jam-packed with both guards and scientists. All are busy with something, with the scientists bustling about around some machinery and the guards are just guarding.

Among the machinery in this particular room, one stood out: a huge cylindrical machine is hovering over a chair with straps in it. Along with that, it seems that the machine happens to be pointing at where the chest suppose to be.

As I already have known of this before, this is the tattoo machine that the faculty uses here, state of the art technology these scientists have here.

"Okay kid," One of the scientists addressed to me as he turned away from his work. "You're going to get your tattoo placed on your body, alright?"

I nodded, already hearing this from last time.

"Good," He confirmed, nodding in agreement as he gestured me towards the chair, everyone in the room stopped doing whatever they have in occupation; the guards and the scientists all together pointed their eyes to my location. "Now, unbutton your shirt and take a seat so that we may begin, though one of the higher-uppers may come here and just watch you so there's that."

I scratched my head in confusion as to whether or not this has anything to do with whatever situation I am in right now; this never happened when I came here the first time.

I walked towards the chair with both my arms on the arm rests in hopes that this time, it won't be excruciatingly long like last time because someone fucked up. The scientist just stood there, tapping his arms as he started to wait for me. Sitting in the chair, many questions were forming in my head as to why the process isn't starting yet.

The it clicked into my head: I didn't take off my shirt.

"Eh, whoops." I scratched my head in embarrassment as I stood out of the chair just to unbutton the orange shirt I have on. I then took my place in the chair again.

Two clamps came out of nowhere and locked both my arms into the arm rest for ' my safety and others'.

I sat there calmly, waiting for someone to come up towards me and start up the procedure. Finally, a portly looking man with a receding hairline and a little stubble on both his lip and chin came up towards me.

This is Dr. Harp.

"So," The Harp scientist started to explain. "We're going to give you the standard procedure tattoo, which is on the left pectoral region, as you already heard from the orientation. You know of where this is, right?"

"Yes, sir." I answered as politely a possible.

"Both polite and educated." He muttered under his breath as he turned away from me, not knowing that I'm listening to his. "Why can't I have more people like this?" He cursed his life for getting himself to deal with the convicts.

***COUGH*** The scientist that instructed me earlier for a seat mustered up the courage to cough.

"Alright kid," He started as he turned back towards me. "That's the standard procedure, but along with that we're giving you two things here."

This grabbed my attention as this never came up on my last endeavor through this facility.

"If you want, you can have another tattoo on any other part of your body just to stand out in the crowd basically. However, the tattoo itself has to be the logo of the Foundation itself, which happens to be this." The portly scientist followed up as he brought up a projector from the ceiling via remote control.

Pressing a button, an image of the symbol appeared on screen.

Three small arrows all pointed towards the empty middle, signifying the unknown what path the facility is going down. Within the arrows is a small circle that happen to cross in the middle of the arrows, basically surrounding both the open space and the arrowheads there. Encompassing this little shape is another circle that happens to surround the arrows, with the areas where the circle should collide make a little space. In the background, a little rhombus barely appears right behind it.

Overall, it looks pretty good.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" I somewhat shrugged my shoulders awkwardly on the chair, due to the chair being a little small for me. That and my arms are restrained just in case I want to run away.

"Good, then." The scientist clapped his hands together and made his way towards a panel connected to the cylindrical device that happens to hover over my head. Typing a few things into the keyboard, a few words flashed into the screen, or that's what it seems from my prospective. Being strapped into a chair definitely hampered my sight.

With a jerking motion, I was sent horizontally up into the air as my body was somehow affected by the G-Forces from the sudden movements.

Soon after, the device then started to become jittery as the programming starts to seem into the circuitry.

Yeah, this is the tattoo device used to brand D-Classes like me. I forgot to say about this long before, but I think this is appropriate enough here, I think?

A red light, at first dim, slowly brightens as the machine starts to power up for what seems to be the most painful experience possible out of a tattoo machine even with the traditional ways.

I just sat there, knowing how it would end.

A small beam came out of the machine and made contact with my skin, somehow making its way pass the epidermis and into the recesses of my integumentary system, somehow making burn marks on target.

The instant the beam landed on the upper left, a little burn came from it landing on my skin as it soon burns in the code that I was assigned to.

Within a few minutes, the machine stops in place as Dr. Harp walks over towards me, scratching his head in question as I didn't exactly react that much to the machine which, to most faculty members here, is a spectacle that is a 'must-see'.

"Alrighty then," He clasps his hands as the machine itself receded back into the ceiling.

"Now that we're finished with that, we'll move onto the next procedure."

'Wait what?' I looked back at the now deranged scientist as I started to see a little bit of a gleam inside his eyes.

"I received the memo that you have knowledge of how a containment breach here is going to happen in about a few hours from now. Dr. Gears informed me of this phenomenon here, so I'll be asking questions while we get the next piece ready." He excitedly says.

"Um," Unsure on how this works, my mind started to black out on the majority of the issues.

"Suuure?" I answered back, nervous on how he'll respond.

"Great!" Out of nowhere, Dr. Harp pulls out a clipboard filled with numerous diagrams and images, one notably significant out of them all.

"Okay then," He started as he flipped through the many pages for his information. "Do you know of when the SCP Containment Breach is suppose to happen?"

Now, we need to numb your body a little bit," He started as he pulled out a needle filled with a powerful sleeping drug. He then stabbed the needle at my neck and injected the whole so into my body.

All over, my body is immediately losing control of itself as my eyes soon fluttered. The last thing I see from the good doctor is him pulling out a pair of tongs from a tray.

Then darkness is all I see.

* * *

_Third Person_

_'Good, the patient is now asleep.'_ Dr. harp thought to himself as he looked at his work then at the needle used to place this young boy to sleep.

"Alright guys," He turned to the remainder of the crew of scientists as he gestured to the rest of the equipment around him.

"It's now time to extract the eye. Now, I want you guys to be very careful about this patient; this process is both very painful and quite tedious, if I do say so myself." He then pointed towards a pair of scientists pushing what appears to be a container filled with something into the tattoo room.

"Inside this little container holds a little artificial eye that I created by hand; took me 2 weeks to figure out how to configure the body not to reject the organ this time." He stated as he walked over to the container and pulled out the eye itself.

It is unlike any eye that the scientists have ever seen: while the eye itself doesn't seem spectacular, what made it different from all the other artificial eyes is that cords replaced where the tendons are suppose to be.

Along with that little detail, the eye inside held some sort of camera.

"This is the eye that will be implanted in place of his left eye." Dr. Harp announces as he gestured to the unconscious, numb body of the D-Class in front of all to see.

"However, we have to prevent the patient from having any kind of pain throughout his procedure and we're on a little bit," Dr. Harp then held up all five fingers in his hands. "of a little a time restraint. Probably about five minutes before he's suppose to be in his cell.

Murmuring in the crowd of scientist and surgeons rose at the ludicrous task that has been given to them, but there's no choice but to follow orders from their superiors.

"However," Dr. Harp said as he got the ensemble attention again. "If you do finish at the requested time that the O-S has given you, they have no choice but to give you extra pay for what you have done. Say it as you will, but does five zeros after a number show a good thing."

Immediately, the group of scientists and surgeons exploded into action, with the surgeons already applying the anesthetics and the scientists studying the little eyeball for any info to how it should be installed.

Pleased of himself, the now tired, yet eccentric doctor looks over the place and smiled.

_'So that kid is responsible for giving all that information to Gears, huh?' _He thought to himself as he looks over the profile of the D-Class that was provided to him by Dr. Gears himself.

_'Falsely accused of his stepmother's death and sentence to life prison? Never was surprise at the kinds of actions society can do to an innocent nowadays.' _He shook his head in disappointment as he closes the file of the D-class, knowing the scenarios that has taken place at his home place.

_'Now, it's just a matter of time before this is finished.' _Taking out an iPod of sorts, he taps on the jailbroken features of it and starts playing with the GBA emulator. One should know of the many rules of the place, one of them being that bringing any form of tech from the outside world may be forced into demotion.

_'What doesn't kill them doesn't bother them.' _He reassured himself.

* * *

_Unknown Location_

_October 17, 2013, 9:20 AM_

_Entrance Zone- D-Class Cells_

The next thing it knew, I found myself waking up while walking in between two guards as if I was sleepwalking throughout the whole procedure.

For some odd reason, the past areas of my mind are blank as I tried hard to think of what happened with no results. Was there something that I'm missing? Did the scientists do something to me while I was a sleep? Apart from the ache of sitting in a chair for a prolong amount of time, I was okay for the most part.

As I was being led back into the D wing, the guards escorting me were giving some instructions and advice, as I am, or was suppose to be, a new person inside the facility.

"Okay, your room is in the middle of this hallway here. The guards will open in remotely to show you, along with the other people bunking in with you. Just in case you do not remember the designation code that is tattooed on both your chest and hand, we have a little pamphlet basically summarizing what the orientation is about. Why we have this here, we don't really know. We just follow orders." He stated.

"You'll be staying here for the duration of this testing. Every once in a while, one of the personal working here would come forward to request your assistance in one of our experiments. Follow our instructions as told by us and you won't have to worry about anything exploding on your face. Keep this up for about a month and you'll be out of here, you understand?"

So basically, he just recapped what happened in the orientation.

I nodded.

"Good." The guard also nodded as he pointed his way to an open door that happens to be my room. And by that, I mean it's my room that happens to be shared with other people.

Walking across the hallway, just before I went through the door,

***BAM***

The door slam shut in front of me, the sound of the door being closed shut echoed through the hallway with the guard at the post in the end of the hallway and the door monitor just laughing.

"Oh, dude. The way you're walking was just all heroic and then bam! The whole atmosphere was ruined. Hehe," The guard chuckled as he reopened the door.

"But seriously. Go on in."

I scowled at the guard and proceeded inside the room.

"Dude, we're suppose to be more professional than that." One of the higher-uppers reprimanded the door guard.

"Oh come on," The door guard said sweating in his helmet as he held both his hands up. "It's been a while since we seen that kind of reaction. You should have see the loo-" The guard was cut of as the door closed shut behind me with a hiss.

I then stood there, alone.

The little itch on the back of my neck reminds me. I really want to get out of these clothes right now, considering the fact that they're very itchy from the way they're stitched together. Due to a 'no personal items' policy for everyone here, I have to leave everything behind with the exception of shoes for some odd reason.

A orange, button up, long-sleeved shirt with the symbol of the foundation on the upper left breast. Along with the shirt is the pants. Just a pair of orange pants, nothing more, nothing less. At least they provided a belt for me because they don't have a size for me that would fit. To compliment with the atrocious orange shirt is the equally bad pants that they also provided too. It's also orange. But hey, at least both the shirt and the pants both fit my lean body.

With that policy, all contact and possessions with and from the outside world is now gone until the aftermath of my work here.

Two bunk beds both stood opposite to each other with a metal table in the middle of it all. Four documents lie on said table with all our designation codes and some other shit I don't care about. Upon arrival to our room, I can see the tell-tale signs of my roommates that are suppose to be here, mainly the small decompressing parts of the beds where they, I think were having a conversation right before they left for some errand.

Looking through the whole entirety of this room, past the beds is the bathroom.

Opening the odd wooden door that holds the bathroom, it doesn't hold much other that the essentials. Upon entering the little room, to my left is the sink that is drilled tightly to the wall in hopes that no one will rip the actual sink out of the bathroom. To the left is a toilet with toilet paper on the right hand side while sitting, or shitting in other cases. The toilet paper is screwed into a panel that seems to have something behind it, in which I do not know of, possibly a way to replace the paper once it runs out. And in the front is a little shower. Nothing too particular except that the majority of the bathroom itself is made out of one thing.

Metal.

Nothing against metal, but isn't it suppose to rust when in prolonged exposure to water? Unless the metal itself is rust-proof, this is a pretty big flaw in and of itself.

Soon after the examination of the bathroom, I left and took off my shoes and propped them near the doorway. I stretched my body out, both my arms became sore as I finally relaxed my body for the rest to come. Looking over the bunk beds here, I searched if my codename is anywhere one them, but to no success.

It seems that I have to find my own bed.

Finding a unused bed, which is hard to find, I patted the mattress which is very thin material, for some reason. Just about two- three inches think. Might as well sleep with no mattress.

Sitting on top of the thin mattress, my mind went back to my past experience with the whole entire facility and its many anomalies running about inside. I really feel that there's more to the Foundation than what I saw in my first run through this whole place. These few SCPs that I saw are just the tip of the iceberg and that there's obviously more kinds of objects here.

Sighing, I laid down on my 'comfy' bed trying to adjust to the current conditions. Soon, realization hits me as I came to a conclusion I forgot when I came back from the orientation.

"Great, I'm gonna have to wait for the guards to show up again." I moaned as I let my body flop onto the bed, with both my hands covering my face, waiting for sleep to go over me.

* * *

_Unknown Location_

_October 17, 2013 9:22 AM_

_Heavy Containment Zone- SCP- 106's Containment Cell_

_Third Person POV_

Sitting in the office chairs for at least at twenty minutes or so, two agents sit inside the observation box up above, looking down at the cell that contained on of the more dangerous objects that the SCP foundation held in its possession. One already felt the need of sleep overtake him while the other agent was constantly reading through the documents pertaining to the object in question.

These two are Agent Skinner and Agent Carey.

Both are wearing the standard guard uniform of the facility with a few minor differences, mainly the color being a dark red outlined by a rough black with the sleeves having a dark tan.

While Agent Carey looked bored of surveying the cell, Agent Skinner is reading the documents of SCP-106, his face beyond his visors showing panic.

_SCP-106_

_Class- __Euclid_

_Sentient and Violent_

_All Physical interactions must be approved by no less than a two-thirds vote from 0-5 Command, and may only extend to testing situations._

_Any corrosion observed on any containment cell surfaces, staff members, or other site locations within two hundred meters of SCP-106 are to be report to Site Security immediately._

With every description of the unknown beast behind the cell, Agent Skinner finds himself more in a pickle, his being here is his transfer from one place into another being an entirely different story.

"You okay there, kid." Agent Carey asked his junior partner, seeing as he's slightly hyperventilating.

"Nah, man." He tried to reassure him as he tried to calm himself down. "I'm fine. It's probably the nerves of being near this thing."

"Yeah, I understand." Agent Carey well understood the feeling of being a rookie in a place like this. A place where a small margin of a error can place anyone 6 feet into the ground. With him being here in just 2 weeks or so, it seems like he's adjusting very well considering the circumstances.

Looking down at the guards surveying the enormous box containing the old man, he feels sleep take a hold of him as both his body and his vision took a blow from the constant surveillance on the box itself.

"Hang on," Agent Carey said as he rose out of his office chair. "Need to get a cup of coffee now. These shifts that we've been having is taking a toll on me right now."

"I understand, man." Skinner hummed in agreement. Ever since the last few containment breaches came, the place has been in a meltdown, with many casualties and a lot of SCP-Objects being relocated due to the damage back in Kilo-4.

"It's because of that project right?" Skinner asked his senior.

"Yep," Carey confirmed as he started to stare again at the box down below. "The reconstruction of the majority of this facility is really causing an uproar here. From all faculty members and criminals no less!" He raised his hands in frustration.

"It's all that asshole Maynard's fault we're here in this situation! He's the one that suggested that idea, and now look at this place. It's a mess!" Taking a few deep breaths, he stood up from his chair and stared at the floating box down below.

"Now that this project is in place, we're in more danger than ever before, just because of one man's ambition to test the waters of creating better material to replace the old walls of this place." Carey took a deep breath as he calmed down from his little rant.

*AHEM*

"Sorry about this," He apologized to his comrade. "It's just been a lot of pressure on all of us as of recent. I take my leave now."

Agent Skinner nodded as he watched his partner walked away from his seat.

Pressing a button on the door, it slid open exposing the rest of the facility to the young one on the chair. Before he leaves, Carey turned around to ask Skinner.

"I take it that you're good right?" He asked his junior partner as he observed him squirming in his seat.

_'Poor guy.'_ He thought as he stared him down. _'I hope you stay strong throughout all of this.'_

"I-I-I'm GOOood." Agent Skinner's voiced cracked as he answered back to his superior.

"You know what," Carey asked him. "I'll get you some pizza down at the facility along with coffee. Does that sound good?"

"Y-y-yeah, sure." Skinner stuttered back as Carey left him alone to observed the box below.

Once the door closed, immediately, agent Skinner hopped not his feet and dashes all the way to the panel with many buttons and switches, mainly the ones that apparently held the cage up in place.

Flipping a few switches here and there, he turned back at the box to see the big thing drop down to the ground as the guards assigned there noticed the unusualness of both the box and the agent.

"Um, Mr. Skinner," One of the guards radioed in, mainly on channel 5, as he checked over the cage. "What are you doing up there?"

No response.

"Sir?"

***Schick* **A sticky sound came out of the cell as something came out of the cell

"Wait, what's happening to the containment cell?" One of the guards asked himself.

Soon, a figure seemingly melded his way through the cell almost as if it is jello, his body now in full view from the observation box and to the unfortunate souls down below. With scars littering his body, His body is slick as the mucus that is secreted from his body cannot be halted from their course of work. But what really grabs the attention of many is the face of the creature.

With its shrunken eyes and his bald head, the mouth of the figure curled into a toothless grin as it finally open its eyes for the first time in a while; the eyes shining a sickening yellow color foreshadowing the depressing fate for these two guards.

This is SCP-106. And now he's hungry.

"AH SHIT!" Another guard took note of what has appeared in front of him as his slow, but meticulous steps towards them has shown that they're next in whatever diabolical plan the humanoid has for them.

"OPEN FIRE!" The first guard barked as he raised his P90 at the figure. Burst and burst of ammunition made their mark, with none of them affecting the eroding old man at all.

He made his way towards his first victim as the guard frantically sprayed at the old, with very little success. Seeing the situation first hand, the guard attempted to bail out but his legs weren't fast enough. The old man jabbed at his abdominal region and he fell to the ground, paralyzed. His buddy guard seeing this tried to make his way towards him, but unfortunately, an old set of eyes already noticed the brave, but foolish notion and his action proved to be deadly.

Trying his best to combat the figure, the guard raised his gun and let loose a spray of bullets from his P90 into the face in hopes of any good results.

It did not work.

Like his buddy, he too was also struck in the gut, all air running out of his system with his last look being of the man staring at both of his prey.

The black humanoid was very pleased of his work and who he got and took both of them and carried them with both of his hands. A few seconds later, he sunk to the floor, possibly to escape into his Dimension and to probably eat the guards.

In a panic, Agent Skinner ran over to the alarm switch that will alert the facility of the apparent breach. Breaking the glass that secludes itself from the rest of the world, he pulls the switch down as sirens all over the place starts alarming.

A panel statics and a mans face appears on the screen, wrinkled and having a bald scalp. This is the man that looks over the facility and provides instructions over the intercom to both personnel and D-Classses.

This is Security Chief Franklin and he's the head chief of all of the security here.

**"What's happening here!?" Who pulled the lever?!"** He shouted as the scientists in the background started to panic, running around and gathering their materials in hopes of saving whatever progress that they have.

"It's SCP-106, Sir!" Agent Skinner informed him of the current situation. "He managed to escape!"

**"WHAT?!" **Franklin shouted as he stared intensely at the Agent currently looking over the place. **"Where's Agent Carey? Is he suppose to be with you?"**

"Um," The Agent nervously scratched the back of his head, forgetting that he's wearing a helmet that covers up the majority of the head and neck. "yeah, he's not here right now. He's on a coffee break."

**"Ugh..." **Franklin slapped his face as he contemplated on what he should do in this situation. **"Just... get to a safe place kid, alright? After all this is over, I'm going to have a talk with your partner. Let's hope that he won't get fired for his negligence over both your supervision and the SCP."**

"You got it sir." Agent Skinner replied back.

**"Understood. Security Chief Franklin Out." **The screen then cuts to static as the Agent stood in the position in which he was talking in, hunched down and arms grasping on the desk.

Immediately, once the screen of the head security is gone, the agent pulls off his hemet, revealing a young face in his twenties with smooth features and a buzz cut. In contrast with his earlier facade, his face shows a different story: he's stale faced. His posture is more reformed with his shoulders straightened out.

This is Ex-Agent Skinner, spy of a branching foundation that broke off the SCP Facility.

He then straightens out and typed again on the panel, bringing up a little conversation log in between two people. He then looks back at where the two guards used to be and wondered where they are.

_'Tch, it's not like I care about them. What matters now is getting the message to him.'_ The now revealed spy thought to himself.

Seeing that his work here's complete, he continued on what he's doing in one of the panels over on the other side of the room, typing a few things and sending a message over to his superiors.

**_"It's out." _**He types as the message was sent to another part of the facility.

_Meanwhile_

Sitting on his comfortable desk seat, a man in his late thirties spins around in his chair rather childishly as one could see the little tales of grinning on his face as he spins around at higher speeds than necessary. Then again, in a situation like this, there's not that much to do in his room with the exception of his again, the computer blocks all foreign programs from being installed on there so any potential games that he could play is out.

With a bald head and a little bit of a goatee, this young man was proven to be quite the competent scientist as his ideas of the Modular Project that he created was finally coming into fruition. Cunning and willing to do anything it takes for him to finish the mission, he is every political man's nightmare.

This is Dr. Maynard, an agent from the split off part of the SCP Foundation.

The speed of the spin somehow tips the chair over and he fell to the ground, face first.

_'I really should have bright my iPod.'_ He thought as he sat on the floor, trying to regain his bearings after his little childish act.

Jumping onto his feet, he made his way over to his desktop that already has open a chat program just recently refreshed with no one in the chat room as of now.

'Come on, come on.' He whispers to himself as he pulls everything to a halt, standing up and immediately feeling nauseous from his little episode.

***BING***

A little sound-effect plays out on his computer as he then looks at whatever the person sent him.

_Guest has joined in._

'Let's hope that the guest is Skinner.' He says silently under his breath, sweat glistening under his brow as he looks around wary of anyone passing by his office.

***BING***

Another message appears underneath the previous notification, with the phrase that he is finally waiting for.

**_"It's out."_** The message said as he know that the plan he created is finally coming into fruition. He replied back, typing out his vague but practical message as he finally realize that these moments are going to be very crucial to their plans on getting what they wanted. Grabbing his lab coat and his standard issued Level-5 Keycard, he proceeded to leave the comfort and safety of his office and out into the now chaos-riddled SCP Foundation.

_"I hope the will work."_ He thought to himself as he made his way out of the office and into the Heavy-Containment Zone, unknown and naive of the perilous and dangerous creatures that lurk in the rooms.

_Later_

Agent Skinner sat in his chair as he waited for a reply or a confirmation or, anything from his superior. It will be a while before the Agent leaves on his own agenda, but not before receiving a new message from his superior.

_**"Proceeding"**_

* * *

_Characters_

_D-9314 A.K.A., Nick Scrivener, Class-D-Class. A young boy that got himself in a situation long time ago. Sent to the __facility for both rehabilitation and hopefully to start a new future. Unfortunately, with knowledge of the breach, he's now willing to do anything to help the members from losing control._

_Dr. Gears, Class-Scientist. A man that founded the facility many years ago to shut this world's supernatural out of the public's glance. _

_Dr. Harp, Class-Scientist. Working at the facility, he's known for his fascination of both the supernatural and science as will go to many __extremes to get the results he wants. He believed that a containment breach is a perfect way of observing how many SCP objects will react in a enclosed environment like the facility._

_Dr. Maynard, Class- Scientist? A man that recently worked his way into a higher position in hopes that his latest program will work into his image. Seems to have a secretive agenda on his hands._

_SCP-106, Class-Keter. A elderly humanoid that has the __appearance of advance decomposition. With every movement this SCP makes, it leaves behind a corrosion effect on anything that it touches (rusting, cracking, rotting, etc.) and the aftermath of a thick black mucus-like substance in its wake. Known to pass through objects and having it's own 'pocket dimension'. The only good thing out is it is that it can't move very fast._

**So this is the second remade chapter for this series and, to be honest, it's turning out pretty good.**

**Unfortunately, this chapter as of no isn't beta'd yet so if anyone wants to check before its release, you're free to go.**

**The information for all characters will be updated as the story goes on.**

**Rewritten since 04/27/15, 8:36 AM**


End file.
